


to go home(that would be enough)

by deadmemewalking



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, just 1k of fluff lads, they get to go home after the war au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadmemewalking/pseuds/deadmemewalking
Summary: He's sitting on the couch while infomercials sell him things he doesn't need, the rain pitter-patters against the window panes, and Lance hums while heating up microwave popcorn, and he thinks he's found a normal he is contended with.





	to go home(that would be enough)

**Author's Note:**

> It was raining
> 
> title from 'to go home' from voltron and 'that would be enough' by lin-manuel miranda

Normalcy has always been a foreign concept to Keith.

His mother was an alien who crash-landed on Earth and stayed to protect a sentient robot lion. Though he can't remember much of her time with him before she flew back to the distant stars, snippets of memories linger: a soft voice singing lullabies in a strange language, sharp claws on fingers that carded through his hair. Even after she left, Keith grew up in a desert shack with only one parent and no connection to the other, besides a purple knife.

After his father's death, he was carted from one foster home to other, each turning him away because of his "fiery attitude" and "an aversion to the family". Even in suburban homes with a mom who made cookies and a dad who played catch in the yard, surrounded by a white picket fence, nothing was normal.

He chased familiar feelings, sounds and sights that made him feel less alone. Riding his father's old hoverbike through the desert, sand whipping in his face and stinging his eyes. Speaking Korean in the mirror and sounding out syllables the way his father used to. Waiting for the sun to sit just on the horizon, before sitting on the roof with a cold drink and watching the colors fade into star-studded darkness.

And then he met Shiro. He reminded him so much of his father that it hurt sometimes; caring, brave, so good that Keith wondered if he was even human. Shiro became his everything; his father, brother, the only person who didn't leave.

Keith became less concerned with finding the normal. He enrolled in the Galaxy Garrison, went to classes, let his guard slip. Shiro would always be around, he didn't have to worry about being alone. He let himself enjoy, fly the simulator in looping turns and reckless dives, let his wandering mind settle because this was his now. He was going somewhere, he belonged somewhere, he found a normal.

It was all torn away. Shiro left. He said it was only for a couple months, six at most, and then he would come back with cool space rocks for Keith's collection and all kinds of stories to tell. But he didn't.

Pilot error, the Garrison said. All members dead, the Garrison said.

He fought and pushed for answers, would steal files at night and sneak out to investigate, getting more reckless the less he learned.

And then he found himself in the desert again, more alone than before and desperately searching for anything that would lead him to Shiro.

Finding the sentient robot lion, getting shot into space, defending the universe from evil aliens; it all faded into some semblance of "normal". Sometimes he'd watch the stars from the castle-ship bridge and forget to marvel at constellations he'd never seen on Earth, or see a new planet and worry about possible threats rather than think about meeting new forms of life, or fly Red through an asteroid field without realizing that it was everything younger Keith had dreamed of.

His relationship with normal has always been a strange one. But he's sitting on the couch while infomercials sell him things he doesn't need, the rain pitter-patters against the window panes, and Lance hums while heating up microwave popcorn, and he thinks he's found a normal he is contended with.

It hasn't rained in a while, not since Keith and Lance bought the small house and settled in. Their first night back on Earth, mid-July in the south, when all the pollen in the air reminded Keith how much he hated allergy season, the air was warm and heavy with moisture in a way that signaled the beginning of a rainstorm.

The cold, wet drops hitting Keith's skin had seemed sudden, or maybe he was still getting used to the familiar sky and grass that was actually green. The stress strung in their shoulders from carrying the universe melted under summer rain, even for just a few minutes. Everyone around him laughed or cried or stood in confusion as water fell from the sky and made their clothes stick to their skin, but, as was increasingly typical, his eyes were drawn to Lance.

The blue paladin turned red paladin had abandoned his helmet in favor of tipping his head back with his eyes closed and letting the rain slide down his skin. Keith had never seen such palpable relief, comfort, contentedness on anyone's face before; it looked like coming home.

Sometimes Keith still doesn't quite register that they're back home, on Earth with its killer hurricanes and blue oceans that lap at sandy beaches and icy roads no salt can melt.

The humming in the kitchen fades off and Keith can't hear socked feet padding around on the tile anymore. He pushes off their cheap, lumpy, comfortable couch and tiptoes to the kitchen.

A large package of microwavable extra-butter popcorn sits on the counter, already opened because Keith knows Lance can't resist the smell, along with a bowl M&Ms, nuts, and pretzels, because Keith likes to pretend that adding trail mix makes popcorn healthier. (It doesn't).

The microwave door is wide open, an abandoned bag of kernels sitting inside. Keith only remembers to duck because of the many instances where he didn't and was smacked full in the face.

If Lance notices Keith's presence, he doesn't say anything, just keeps staring out the window above the kitchen sink. The dishes from breakfast still sit in the sink because there's never time to wash them until they both come back home, when they can carry out a routine of who-can-clean-the-most-dishes and how-many-times-can-Lance-throw-bubbles-at-Keith-before-he-throws-some-back.

The sound of rain plinking against glass is even louder in the kitchen, amplified by silence and a comfortable calm. The other side of the window is grey and cloudy, tiny rivulets of water running down the surface and collecting in an empty flower tin that threatens to overflow. Lance is enraptured by the sight, and Keith lets himself admire his boyfriend for a minute. The rain reflects in blue eyes, framed by lashes that brush against smooth cheeks.

Before, a million miles away from where they are now, in the depths of space, Lance's eyes dripped with longing when he talked about the rain. He would describe they way it frizzed Veronica's hair and caught on his eyelashes when Luis dragged them outside to splash in puddles. His eyes lit up when he talked about recreating the _Singin' in the Rain_ scene with a polka dotted umbrella and his voice caught when he said the word _home_.

Keith never quite understood Lance's love for the rain before, but he can see it now, clear as day, in the way his eyes shine with a yearning satisfied and how the curls of his lips say finding something lost. The rain drumming on the roof makes a steady beat of _home, home, home_.

He moves forward to wrap his arms around Lance's waist, buries his face in his back and inhales the warm, familiar scent. He's wearing Keith's old sweater with a stubborn coffee stain from the time he tried to make coffee and text Pidge at the same time. He traces the brown splotch with his finger and earns a smile and Lance's hands settling over Keith's on his stomach.

It's domestic; sweet but not cloyingly, like cold peaches and the lavender-scented creams in their bathroom.

Keith hooks his chin over Lance's shoulder and thinks he could live like this forever. They might keep staring out the window, or they might finish making the popcorn and curl up on their lumpy couch to watch Disney channel original movies. And tomorrow will start the same way, with bantering over breakfast and rushing out the door; and it'll end the same way too, with Keith and Lance together doing whatever they want to. And they'll do the same thing for the rest of their lives but never get bored, because there's still excitement in pressing his lips against Lance's or racing to the remote for control over the TV.

It's almost-normal, because Keith will never get used to being here with Lance and loving with all his heart and being loved in return.

But it's his.


End file.
